In His Kiss
by Rab-idRaeann
Summary: Spoiler for S7 episode END OF DAY...an interpretive response to the cliffhanger ending...painful and romantic all at once...


IN HIS KISS

AUTHOR: Rabid/Raeann

RATING: PG

COUPLE: B/S

BETA BABES: Gwen and Mary

SPOILERS: To Buffy S7…End of Days. 

SUMMARY: This is a little interpretive dance about the infamous KISS at the end of EOD.

DISCLAIMER: Can I just say "Yada, Yada, Yada?" Okay…I guess not! So…YES! I am guilty. I stole every character and situation in this fic out of Joss Whedon's back pocket while he was looking over his notes for Season Five of Angel. He deserved it. But then…there was the innocent little co-owner lambs…like Fox TV, Mutant Enemy, UPN and the WB…they own all of this stuff too…so I am bad, I need redemption and possibly tacky costume jewelry. I hereby confess that none of these characters are mine…not even Spike…but I still think that is just WRONG.

_Woh__-oh-oh kiss him..... and squeeze him tight  
and find out what you want to know.  
If it's love if it really is....it's there in his kiss._

Angel was back. Buffy could feel the singing rush in her blood as she threw herself into his arms. They kissed and it was surreal, a reoccurring dream come true. One moment she was being pummeled by the Evil Evangelist and the next she was looking into the dark eyes of her melodramatic past. She sighed against his lips, savoring the reality of his strong hold on her. 

She didn't think about how soon he would be letting go. She wanted to forget everything and be swept up in this perfect moment. When she had needed him the most, at the end of the world, he had come. He had arrived in the nick of time, like her hero, like a knight in shining Armani. Seeing Angel standing there, confident and cocky and completely unanticipated, made her feel carefree. It lightened her load a little and just for a second she was sixteen again and star struck. 

All of the Slayer's pent up emotions flooded to the surface and she expressed them in a thoughtless rush. Buffy lived for the moment, safe in Angel's arms again. She let herself dream and in the middle of her reverie she was blindsided. 

There was a noise to her right. Stones shifted under combat boots and she broke out of the kiss ready for a fight. Spike stared at her from a few feet away. His legs were braced wide, muscles coiled tight. His expression was dark, haunted…empty. His emotional pain was physical for her. It tore Buffy out of her idyllic fantasy and slammed her into merciless reality. 

The blade of his eyes, cold blue steel, sliced to her heart. She had a fleeting impression of him, a glimmer, and then, he was gone, fading into the shadows. As he vanished, the leather wings of his duster made a sound like a flock of startled birds taking flight. Buffy held on to the afterimage of his face, the negative picture of shattered faith. 

"What have I done?" she whispered. 

The impact of her new worldview was seeping into her skin, making her shiver. In one stark moment, every pathetic truth about her life had become clear to her. Icy tendrils of dread were tracing through her veins. She felt drugged, heavy in heart and mind.

Time had slowed to a crawl. Buffy turned to look again at Angel and he blinked back, uncomprehending. She could see he was still deep in their shared delusion. He smiled at her in mild bemusement. 

One of his hands shifted position on her arm as he soothed, "It's okay. It was only Spike. He's on our side now, right? Willow told me he'd converted. Though frankly, I find that hard to belie…"

Buffy wasn't listening. Bile rose in her throat. She was sure she was going to be sick and Angel's calm assurance made her want to rage at him. Instead, she twisted free of his hold and stumbled to the doorway. One hand braced on the passage wall, she peered into the tunnel. There was no sign of Spike. He was gone. More than anything, Buffy wanted to run after him. She wanted to fall to her knees and beg his forgiveness. But the hole in her chest seemed bottomless. She could never fill it with words. The depth of her betrayal was overwhelming.

_We were never close._

The memory mocked her. Close? They were one. She could feel Spike's heart breaking and the reality of it shattered her illusions. It was worse than the end of the world. Buffy knew there was nothing she could say or do to make the hurt any less. She had failed him. The one person she should never have failed. And she couldn't presume to ask for his forgiveness or even his understanding. She deserved to be punished.

_What was I thinking? Well…obviously, I wasn't thinking! Why did I--? Oh, God!___

Her voice was a throaty gasp, "Did you see his face?"

"Spike's face?" Angel asked, surprised by her question. "Not one of my priorities. Besides, I was too busy looking at you." He favored her with a charming smile. The Slayer didn't acknowledge him and he frowned in confusion. "Buffy? Am I missing something? What if he did see us? It's not the first time we've kissed. Or the first time he saw. You know, he used to lurk in the bushes and watch you? I caught him at it once. Unnatural behavior for a vampire. If you ask me...Spike has some kind of crush on you. But, I don't see how that's our problem. I mean, it's not like the two of you are in love or anything." 

He laughed lightly at the idea but the noise died in his throat when Buffy turned to face him. Her devastated expression and tear-clouded eyes spoke eloquently. 

"Oh!" Angel said, in a very small voice. He swallowed hard as his glance slid to the side.

Buffy looked away too. She stared at her scythe on the ground for several heartbeats without really seeing it. Then, shaking off the numbness of her despair, she crossed the tomb in a few strides and bent to retrieve the weapon. 

Angel adjusted his mental attitude. After a moment or two of consideration, he moved toward her, again. None of this mattered as far as he could see. He would be leaving soon. Until then they could be together. 

Buffy avoided him, stepping away. She held up one hand palm out to keep him at a distance. His tentative smile faded.

"Why are you here, Angel?" She asked her voice empty of inflection.

She met his eye and Angel knew with absolute certainty it was over between them. Surprisingly, it didn't hurt. He had always imagined it would pain him when she moved on. But he found himself accepting it as easily as he had accepted her kiss. Maybe he'd taken too many hits lately…Cordy…Connor…the end of world peace. He shrugged off the troubling memories and gave Buffy a wistful look. Then, he reached into his jacket pocket.

"I brought you something to help in your big battle." 

Buffy stared at the gaudy pendant in Angel's grip. She hadn't been expecting it but, after a moment, she held out her free hand for the necklace.

"What's this?" She asked, examining the pendant closely. "Austin Powers sent me more mojo via his groovy man-jewelry?"

"It's supposed to be important," Angel said. "Don't know why?" He pointed vaguely over his left shoulder. "There's a file in the limo but it's not much help."

"Typical," Buffy muttered. Then, she did a slight double take. "There's a limo?"

"Long story," Angel said, brushing aside her idle curiosity. "But according to the file you need a vampire to trigger this thing. So, I came and I'll stay if—?" He made it a question, no longer presuming.

"I might need you for this fight," she admitted. "We're kind of outgunned. But…"

_Spike…he will go home and we have to talk this out…I can't have you there…besides…you don't belong here anymore…_

Angel could see the reluctance in her face. She was grateful for his offer of help. If he stayed, it might tip the scales in her favor. But she didn't want to take him home.

"No room at the inn?" 

"Well, the house is kind of wall-to-wall girls…Potential Slayers…and…" 

Buffy let the excuse hang in the air until Angel nodded.

"Right," he said. "I'll find a place. Shouldn't be too hard. Town looks like a graveyard already."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike sat on the basement stairs, feet planted on the floor, elbows point down into his knees. He was staring through the pretty image of the First as it prattled on about Buffy. 

"I told you she would betray you but you wouldn't listen. You were so sure of her. And now she is with him…in his arms…kissing and cooing. Listen to me. It's not too late for us. I can make everything better. Get the Scythe. Bring it to me. And I will make you happy." 

Spike continued to ignore her. He was getting good at it. 

Her voice became a seductive purr. "I can give you anything you want. Even her. I can give her to you." When he didn't blink or twitch or give any sign he had heard her, she pretended to sit on the edge of his bed and swing her feet. "Or…I can break her…if that's what you want. I'm the only one who can break her. You know that, right? Just like I'm the only one who will ever love you."

Upstairs, the kitchen door opened. The inrush of night air carried Buffy's scent to him even before he heard her cat-like tread on the floorboards overhead. He glanced at the ceiling and then winced, squeezing his eyes shut on the sting of tears. He had been waiting for hours for her to come home. Every minute had been torture. It felt like he'd endured several lifetimes of gut-wrenching reflection. 

But, as Buffy's footsteps crossed to the basement door, Spike suddenly wanted the uncertainty back. It was better to imagine the end than to face it. He was so afraid of his jealousy. It seemed like a monster consuming him. He wanted to lash out at Buffy. Hurt her. Make her suffer. But he knew she was beyond him now…gone for good.

She came to him as he knew she would. Spike kept his eyes closed until he felt the slight weight of her on the stairs. She stopped a few steps above him. 

_Too close._

Growling, he stood. He moved away quickly, putting distance between them, before he turned to confront her. The sad look in her eyes was like a sucker punch to Spike's solar plexus. 

_BITCH! Don't you DARE try to play me._

"She has the weapon," the First said from her perch on his cot. "Take it from her. Now! Strike her down before she expects it."

"Sod off," he snarled at the apparition.

Buffy followed his glare and felt a sudden chill. She braced herself against the unseen enemy. "Is it here?"

Spike didn't respond.

"Answer me," Buffy ordered, panicking a little, as her eyes frantically searched the shadows of the cellar. She was deathly afraid for him now. He had come so far. 

_Don't let me be the cause of him losing it all. Don't let me damn him with my stupidity._

"Spike? Is the First here?"

His agonized gaze flickered back to meet hers. They locked onto one another. Held on, in mute desperation. After a moment more, Spike sighed. His shoulders drooped in defeat.

"Yeah," he admitted. "It's here." He cracked his neck to the left and let the tension drain out of his body. "Been egging me on to kill you for the last eternity or so."

Buffy relaxed a little. "Somehow, I don't think I can get out of this that easily."

Spike sniffed, scornfully. He crossed his arms in front of his body. 'Protecting his heart,' Buffy thought. The defensive stand cut her to the quick. It was far worse than any show of rage.

"Do it," the Faux Buffy commanded, sounding suddenly angry. "Kill her. Make her pay for hurting you like this. How dare she come here straight from his bed?" Spike cocked his head at the blatant lie, wondering at it. The First was too furious to note the change in him. It pressed home the point. "That's right. I know what she knows. I feel what she feels. And she's HIS."

"Is she?" Spike asked the invisible creature. He lifted one doubtful brow. 

"No, no, NO," the First screeched, leaping to its insubstantial feet. "Don't let her win. DON'T! You whipped…worthless…whining little…"

Spike turned his back on the thing. It threw a dramatic tantrum and then blipped out of existence. 

The vampire squared his shoulders and let his arms fall to his sides.

_Right then, take it like a man. _

"Are you?"

"Are I…what?"

"His?" He made it a soft question. When Buffy didn't answer straight away, he lowered his chin and peered into her face. Her bottom lip was trembling. Spike was buffeted by conflicting emotions. He wanted to make this easy on her but his courage deserted him. Before Buffy could reply, he broke eye contact and made a grand sweep with one arm. "No, forget I asked…never mind…"

"Spike, I…"

"Look," he interrupted, "we've got to save the world, right? That's the mission and Angel's part of it. I get that. The mission is what matters. We'll just go on like this didn't happen…and…when it's all over…those of us still alive can sort it all out."

It was the most tempting offer Buffy had ever heard. She wanted to take it. She could feel the tremble in her knees and the icy wash of fear in her gut. She would rather face down twenty uber-vamps than have this conversation. She had never been so terrified. The world could end for her and, by extension, everyone else in the next few minutes. Spike had every reason to crush her. And she was going to give him the power to do so. 

_All I have to do is walk away…he would understand…and we could both go back to pretending._

"The mission isn't what matters," she said firmly. "People matter, too. Maybe they matter more."

"Right," Spike nodded. "People you love." His voice cracked and he swallowed, looking away. 

"No," Buffy corrected impatiently. "All of the people. They all matter. The ones I hate. The ones I'm indifferent to or don't even know at all. Every single one of them is depending on me."

"I know all this," Spike groaned. "Heard it a dozen times before. Said it myself even. So why don't you spare us both the Perils of Pauline story of Slayer Girl's life? I'll give you the point...you got it hard. Life sucks and then you die. Cue the bloody violins."

"And I am depending on you," Buffy continued, as if he hadn't spoken. 

Spike snorted out his disgust. "Well I've heard that before, too, haven't I? Look, I said I would fight…"

"I know," Buffy said, cutting him off. "But that's not what I depend on you for."

She glanced at the weapon in her hands. Spike had given her the strength to claim it. But without him by her side, the scythe was useless to her. Coming the rest of the way down the stairs, she tossed the weapon onto his bed. She stared down at it for moment and then taking a deep breath looked up to meet his eye. 

"You have to understand something," she said. "I've been thinking about us…long and hard…for the last several hours. I didn't want to come home until I was sure about this. When you saw us together…Angel and I…" 

Buffy hesitated.  She seemed to be having trouble with the memory of it. Her voice broke and Spike almost went to her. He controlled the urge, propping up his resolve with his own recollection of the night's events.

'Burns doesn't it?' he thought. 

Keeping his distance, he watched warily as Buffy dashed the tears from her cheeks and gathered her thoughts. 

"When you saw us," she repeated. "It hurt…and I finally understood…everything. Everything suddenly became clear to me. All of these mixed up feelings. Love. My life with Angel. With you. For the first time I saw the real difference between the two of you. And it's not the soul. It was never the soul." 

_Tell me what it is then and bugger off. Hearing it can't be any worse than seeing..._

"So? Not the soul…" 

He hated the plaintive tone in his voice but there was nothing he could do about it.

"No. See…Angel is the perfect man."

"WHAT?"

_Oh…right then… hearing IS worse. Bloody Hell…I'm burning away here…like standing in direct sunlight!!! I can't do this…I am going to start crying or…go off my head…or…hurt her…what if I hurt her? I don't want to but if she keeps on…_

"For me anyway," Buffy said, nodding earnestly. She turned her back on him and walked toward the washer-dryer as she went on talking out her feelings. "It's because I'm the Slayer. He's a champion, too. And how romantic is that? Plus, he's tall, dark, handsome, dashing and devoted to the cause of good." Facing away from him, she ticked off Angel's sterling points on the fingers of one hand. "He always makes me feel special. He sweeps in at the perfectly perfect moment and saves the day. I remember the first time I saw him I just knew we had this connection…"

Spike's eyes strayed to the weapon on the cot. His fingers curled as if wrapping around the staff of the scythe. He could almost feel the weight of it in his hands. One swift strike and Buffy's head would roll and her wicked tongue would be silenced and then he could fall on the stake and die. It would be poetic. Her precious poof could save the world on his own. With a great deal of effort he pushed the fantasy aside and tried to focus. 

_No, I won't do that…I am NOT a killer…not anymore. And anyway, killing her won't solve anything…it won't make her mine. And I would lose everything else. I can do this. I can be a man…and face it. She wants him…told me didn't she? Wouldn't bloody well listen…but she did tell me. Angel is the only one she ever lov…GOD…I think I am going to throw up…_

"Angel is the man of my dreams," Buffy finished, turning to look at him again. 

"Uh," Spike said. It wasn't much of a response but it was all he could manage and still keep his gorge down. 

He closed his eyes and let his head drop back as he tried to force some feeling into his numb limbs. 

_Okay…this is Hell…didn't recognize it at first. Must have been dusted earlier tonight…just don't remember…. _

Buffy waited and watched. He was trembling. She could see the tremor in his curved fingers. When her words had struck him like bullets, she'd felt every twitch of his pain in her bones, every shudder of fear. Buffy knew she was treading on dangerous ground. This might just push them both over the edge. But they needed to deal with this...now...or it would always be an issue.

_I have to make him see…I have to break through his wall…it's the only way we will ever be free…_

"I can't ask you to forgive me," she said softly. "I don't even want that. I want to be punished. I don't expect you to understand. Believe me, that's not what this is about. But…I wanted you to know…what I know…" She took a deep breath and released it. "You're nothing like Angel and what I feel for you is nothing like what I feel for him. You're not perfect. You're not easy. You're a messy, scary...inconvenience. And really that's a good. You're a good. You're the best man I've ever known. I never, ever want to hurt you. Every time you hurt I feel it too…because you're a part of me…and my life…the best part…and that's because...I love you."

Spike's eyes popped open. His head whipped forward and he gaped at her. 

"Because you…? I…? WHAT?" 

"I love you."

Spike turned his disbelieving glare heavenward and puffed out an impatient breath. His eyes were blazing as they returned to meet Buffy's unflinching gaze.

"Oh, I see," he snarled. "Came over you sudden like, did it? Sometime between throwing yourself at Angel and finding your way home four hours later you had a sodden revelation?"

"Something like that," Buffy admitted, lifting both hands in a gesture of helplessness. "It was like that song."

Spike had started for the stairs but her incongruous remark made him stop and spin around, "Like the—? No..." He caught himself before he could ask. "Don't even bother trying to explain. I don't want to know. It's a little too late to play this card, Buffy. Not now I've seen it with my own eyes." He shook his head and looked at her with something very like loathing. "God, you are a piece of work. Is it because of your calling that you started tormenting me? Save the world and send Spike around the bend? All part of the Slayer deluxe package? You couldn't just stake me and be done with it? When I think about earlier tonight…you feeding me all of that codswallop about mixed signals and never being close and all the bloody time…" 

"The shoopy song," Buffy said, quite obviously not on the same page. "You know? The one by Cher?" She hummed a few bars. 

Spike stared at her in open-mouthed concern. It occurred to him that she was drunk or maybe just stark raving mad. 

"Or...you know...the older version? The one by Martha and the Vandals."

"Vandellas," he growled. "And it was the Shirelles." 

He raked a hand through his hair; gritting his teeth until his jaw muscles jumped. 

Finally, releasing a put upon sigh, he conceded, "Alright, I know the bloody song. What's your point? You saying that's why you did it? Because it's not much of an excuse, is it?" His voice dripped with sarcasm as he quoted the lyric. "_'_Find out if it's really real'?" 

When Buffy didn't rise to the bait, Spike managed to shake off his desire to wallop her. He was suddenly too tired to fight the inevitable. "Fine, I got it, explanation noted. It's in his kiss…that's where it is. Now we are all better informed. Glad you stopped by to set me straight. But…been a long day and if you don't mind…" 

He pointed his arm at the stairs like a directional arrow ushering her out of his home.

Buffy didn't budge. "But it wasn't. That's what I'm trying to tell you. There was nothing in his kiss but lips. We kissed. I can't even tell you why. It just happened. It was as natural as breathing. Easy and comfortable and…fun…"

"Thanks, that makes me feel so much better."

"I'm not trying to make you feel better," she countered, throwing Spike's own words back at him. But then she bit her lip as she instantly reconsidered. "Or…well…okay…that's not true. I AM trying to make you feel better…but mostly…I'm just trying to tell you how I feel about Angel."

"I know how you feel…made it more than clear, haven't you? He's the one. The dream man. The sodden center of your Buffy world. Perfect for you and all. Don't see why you have to twist the knife…"

"Because you keep missing the point," she said. "He's not the one. You're the one. Angel's kiss? It was fun…it was dreamy…but it wasn't real. And when I saw you standing there…in the tomb…I couldn't help thinking about everything real in my life. My friends…my calling…this house…you. And I remembered the last time I kissed Angel…."

"After Willow brought you back," Spike said matter-of-factly. "You went off to L.A. Spent the daylight with him. Came back reeking of fancy hair gel and cheap motel."

It took Buffy a second of two to adjust to his knowing. Then, she processed the additional burden of pain. 

"Yes," she said, after the brief hesitation. "We met at some dumpy roadside inn halfway between here and L.A. Angel got a room and he…held me. We took turns sleeping and talking. It went on for hours…"

"I don't want to hear this."

"And then we both went back to our real lives," Buffy finished quickly. "Just like always. We acted like lovers, with the rising music and the meaningful looks. But it didn't really MEAN anything. We never let our guard down. Not for a second. And when it was over, we kissed…natural…easy…and went our separate ways. It was perfect, the perfect moment with the perfect man. Why would I ever need anything more than that?"

"Buffy, what are you trying to say? Because I'm not…"

"I'm saying I finally understand why Angel is so important to me. Why I didn't see what I had with you. Why I couldn't call it love. Having Angel in my life meant I wasn't alone in my aloneness. But it also meant I never had to let myself get close to anyone. Don't you see? As long as I told myself the dream of Angel was true love…as long as I loved only him…I was safe.

"Safe? Safe from what? Being close?"

"Yes…close…hurt. I never had to lose the one I loved because I never really had him to begin with. Angel isn't real. He never was. He can't hurt me. He's nothing but the dream lover of a sixteen-year-old girl. I kept him away from my home and I played out all of these scenes in my head. How somehow, someday we would be together. But I never did anything to make my fantasy real. And that's what Angel is: a fantasy, my very own fairytale prince, the complete package, right down to the Blissful Happy Curse accessory."

"There's got to be a way around the curse," Spike said. He felt like the world's biggest chump, offering her every opportunity to change her course. He had to resist the urge to throttle himself as he pointed out the obvious. "All you got to do is find your cure. Maybe Mr. Perfect could go to Africa. Pay the price and be fitted with a permanent soul like me."

"Yeah," Buffy agreed softly. There was an ironic twist to her mouth as met Spike's eye. "Funny, how we never thought of that."

"Think on it now," Spike said in a coldly measured tone. "If you could have Angel and no worries…"

"What would I do with him?" Buffy sighed. "Angel and I…we talk, what? Once, maybe twice a year? I don't know him. He's not part of my life. He lives in another town. And even if he didn't…even if he moved back to Sunnydale…it wouldn't change anything. He was here for three years. We were never close." 

"Things are different now, aren't they? You're older, wiser…" Spike's steady look gave her pause. Buffy did as he asked.  She took the time to really consider the idea of Angel returning to her, free of the curse and ready to settle down. Then, she shook her head. 

"You're right. Things are different now. Now, there's you." She grinned a little as she added, "The Anti-Prince."

Despite his rising panic at the direction of this conversation, Spike puffed out a self-conscious chuckle in response to her gentle jab.  The cold clamp of fear in his throat was gradually loosening.

"Do you know why Angel and I never fight when he visits?" Buffy asked suddenly. Spike shook his head and she said, "Because he always arrives at the perfect moment, just like a good hero should. He never stumbles in to an awkward situation. He shows up for the funeral, not the long illness. And nobody ever gets shirty at a funeral. But real life is more than just a string of perfect moments and real people get bitchy when the plumbing backs up. Where was Angel when the basement flooded? Where was he when Dawn had a broken arm and I didn't have enough money to pay the doctor?" 

"Did you give him a chance? Call him? Tell him you needed his help?"

"I didn't have to tell you," she countered. "You were here. You put me first. I don't know where I fall on the list of Angel's priorities but I do know it's nowhere near the top. Being second or third or twenty-fifth…that's just not enough for me anymore."

Buffy fell silent. They stared at each other and the light of mutual understanding slowly dawned. It transformed Spike's face, lifting the corners of his mouth and making his eyes sparkle. He stepped closer to her.

"What you're talking about," he whispered intently, "takes a lot of work. You've got to be willing to feel."

"I know," the Slayer said, smiling up at him. She raised a hand to his cheek and he nuzzled into the cradle of her palm. Her fingers trailed along his skin, into his hair and around to the back of his neck. "But it's worth it. Even the pain is worth it. If it's real. And it is. What you and I have built together…suffered through together…real pain…real understanding…real love."

Snaking one arm around her waist, Spike drew Buffy to his chest. Eyes open, mouth a scant millimeter from hers, he asked the question that was pounding in him like a pulse. "Is that what this is?"

"There's only one way to be sure," Buffy murmured against his lips.

She grabbed his shoulders, pulling him into her body. They closed their eyes and she held him. Kissed him. Squeezed him tight.

THE END


End file.
